


fix me up (while we wait)

by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader)



Category: DCU, Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M, These Boys are a MESS, but there will be some content warning, ill add tags as they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcrusader/pseuds/batofgoodintent
Summary: Tim and Kon have both been benched from the Teen Titans for mental health issues. It just so happens that Tim's appointment is right after Kon's, so they keep running into each other in the waiting room.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> both Tim and Kon have specific incidents they were benched for, as well as general mental health issues that anyone close to them can see if they have, like, eyes. the specific issues wont be revealed until a bit later.

The therapist’s office was  _boring_. 

That was all Kon allowed himself to think on the subject, really. It was cold and unfriendly and, worst of all for a personality like his, _boring_. Some lady across from him was looking at his file with big earnest eyes -- Lisa, according to her desk plate -- and insisted that she just wanted to help him, and that she could only do that if he, ‘Conner’, would just talk to her. 

Kon was still debating whether or not he wanted to even attempt that. 

Sure, she was one of the best in the business. And yes, she knew all the superheroes’ identities and had a rough estimate of everything going on in most heroes’ lives. Kon had a feeling that that wasn't because they actually told her, but because she kept up with the news religiously. Whatever.

But okay. She was supposedly good at what she did.

And... yes, Ma had signed him up for this. 

But that didn’t mean he was willing to go along with the whole therapy thing. He loved Ma Kent, _really_ , but he just wasn’t comfortable with a stranger getting into his head. 

Like, sure, he hadn’t been sleeping well ever since his trippy nightmares had returned. And okay, yeah, he’d been benched because he had a “””panic attack””” in the field. Whatever. He still didn’t want to be _here_.

Because the thing was, the second he admitted he wasn’t feeling well, all his issues would become real, and he didn’t want that. It was better if his anxiety and depression remained unnamed in the back of his mind, where they couldn’t hurt him as long as they weren’t  _real_. 

So Lisa kept talking, and Kon tried to drone her out.

Still, she kept using the name Conner instead of Kon, and it was really starting to grate on him.  

“It’s Kon,” he corrected, after like, the seventeenth time she’d used it. “Just Kon. No ‘ner’. Got it?” 

Given that it was the first thing he’d said to her in like, five minutes, she was understandably surprised. And probably a little taken aback at the harsh tone. 

Kon tried not to feel bad, but he couldn’t shake the surly expression on his face, and his tightly crossed arms didn’t want to uncross. 

“Right, I’m so sorry, Kon. Thank you for letting me know,” she said with a smile. The wrinkles around her mouth reminded him of Ma’s, and Kon felt traitorously close to thinking higher of her for it. “Now, Kon... Are you okay with talking to me, just for a little while?” 

“Depends,” Kon found himself saying. “I, uh. Does it have to be, like, stupidly heavy topics? Because no offense, but I’m kinda tired of having those pushed on me.” 

The woman looked at him, those kind eyes reflecting something deeper, and warmer, than he felt comfortable being on the receiving end of. Especially from a stranger. 

Like -- Ma was one thing. 

He still didn’t deserve it coming from her, but like, it was Ma Kent. She looked at anyone that way if they were young or like vaguely related to her. But this lady was a total and complete stranger. Just ‘cause Kon was past being disrespectful to older women didn’t mean that he was comfortable with them trying to be too friendly with him. 

(And not  _that_ kind of too-friendly, either. He definitely wasn’t going to talk about those issues here, though. Those could stay buried in the deepest recesses of his mind where no one would ever find them again.)

“Of course,” Lisa said, a soft smile on her face, and Kon found himself being pulled back to the here and now. She even set the cards to the side, which made Kon feel a bit better, if he wasn’t being recorded and judged for anything he said. Score one for Superboy. “Well. Let’s see. What have you been up to this week?” 

Aaaand just like that, good feeling gone.

“Not what I meant about dodging heavy topics,” Kon said, because he didn’t really want to own up to ... _that_. To what he’d been doing lately. Or, more importantly, what he hadn’t been doing. 

Ever since Cassie benched him, his days seemed to be filled with a whole lot of nothing. Sure there was like, school and stuff, and farm work, but he wasn’t allowed to do much of anything. Ma wouldn’t even let him go out as Superboy at all, once she noticed the funk he was in. 

Meaning that he was totally screwed until he passed himself off as mentally good to go. 

...He had a feeling he wasn’t doing a good job. 

So, well. He figured he ought to do better. Kon hadn’t been his suave, ‘90s’ self for a while, but he still felt like he pulled off ‘charming’ pretty good. So he pulled out his best flirty smile and said, “Plus, I’d  much rather hear about  _your_ week, Lisa.” 

The soft smile on her face became a bit more shrewd. 

Kon wasn’t sure why that made him feel bad. But in the same way, it made him feel like he had just a bit of control back. She hadn’t been expecting that, probably -- or at least had been hoping for a different answer. 

Maybe he wasn’t playing this card right. Kon was just starting to reevaluate his tactic when she, to his utter surprise, leaned back in her chair and started to talk. Better yet, it looked like she'd actually listened to him, because she was talking about _her_ week. 

Kon was floored, and as such, he almost missed the first couple of sentences. But after he realized she was for real and showed no signs of stopping, he sat forward and tried to tune back in. 

(...It was also possible that he was listening because this was like, the most human interaction he’d had in a week.

Whatever.)

After a few minutes, though, he found himself interrupting. 

“-And I told the whole thing to my therapist, Joanne, and she told me that I either needed to up my prescription for Prozac, or start to just outright tell my neighbors it's unacceptable behavior,” Lisa said. "I'm starting to think she's right, maybe I'll draft up a letter for a time to meet with them-"

It was so easy to listen without thinking that it took a moment to realize what was off about that sentence. A beat too late, and with her already moving on to another story, Kon piped up with a disbelieving, “ _You_ see a therapist?” 

In hindsight, it might have been what Lisa was planning, but Kon had never been the best at seeing through plans. So Lisa’s surprise at his interruption seemed perfectly genuine. 

“Yes, Kon,” she said. “Of course I do. It’s the reason I came into this field in the first place, you know.” 

Kon stared at her. “But...” 

“Let me make it simpler for you,” she said with a laugh. “Yes. I am a therapist... who regularly sees a therapist. It’s not that uncommon.” Lisa smiled, eyes crinkling a little. “Is it really such a bad thing?” 

And to that, Kon didn’t have an answer. Because seriously, he  _didn’t_ want to be here. But the idea of it not being the end of the world, or being embarrassing, or another sign that he’d never be Superman-- 

Her explanation wasn’t perfect, obviously, and he still didn’t really feel comfortable sharing about himself. But it made him feel just a little less awful, being here. 

“Right, no, sorry,” he found himself saying. “Yeah, nevermind, ignore my outburst. Um. Continue? You were uh, telling me about how that three legged dog keeps waking you up in the morning and it’s, like... totally messing with your sleep schedule...?” 

Kon wasn’t sure why he remembered the information so clearly, or why he was so invested in hearing about this woman’s life -- but it sure beat having to talk about his own. Because right now, he didn’t feel like he had much of one, and he’d avoid thinking about that as much as he possibly could.

 

* * *

 

 

When the session ended, Kon hadn’t opened up any more than he intended to. That didn’t mean that Lisa didn’t have a good idea of where he was at, though. 

She had seen the news, and knew the reason that Cassie had benched him from the Titans. And unlike most non-hero patients she had, she could also do a background check, and learn a bit about his past and the things she might want to ask him about once he was more comfortable.

When that would be, she had no idea. The three-times-a-week appointments would help speed it along and get him to feel comfortable around her sooner rather than later, but she doubted he’d open up before session four. 

However, just as she was starting to write down her notes about this session, she overheard Kon in the lobby. 

A quick peek out showed her that he was talking to her next appointment -- her 10:00, Tim Drake. 

She wondered if it had been a mistake, suddenly, scheduling these two back to back when they’d both been pulled from the Teen Titans for similar reasons. 

“So, you too, huh?” Kon said, playing it as cool and casual as ever. “What are you in for?” 

“Alfred saw my stash of energy drinks and decided I needed a counselor,” Tim deadpanned. “You?” 

“Ma saw my old Playboys and got concerned.” And ah, she could almost hear the smug smile on his face at the explanation. She wondered if she ought to ask about the reason he chose that excuse, and if she should be concerned about Tim’s false reason as well. “I’ll be outta here in no time. Anyways, good luck in there, man. No offense, but I’m not staying here longer than I have to.” 

“Right.” Tim laughed a little, then got comfortable in his seat again. “See you when I see you, then.” 

“Yeah. See ya, Tim.” 

With that, Kon left the room, and Lisa was left wondering just what she’d signed herself up for, taking on these two. 

 

* * *

 

 

“So, Tim,” Lisa said, smiling a little at her newest patient. “You know why you’re here, I assume?"

Tim sat bone-still in the comfortable sofa. "Yes,” he said. And if his voice was stiff, who could blame him? “I do."

"Well, just so we’re on the same page, it says here you’re coming in for grief counseling. Signed by Nightwing himself."

The tenseness in Tims frame only grew. "Yes. That’s right."

The woman adjusted her glasses, then got a better look at him. More specifically, at how tense he was. "He told me that he doesn’t think you’re crazy, you know. In the end, you were quite right about Batman being alive."

Tim frowned, body going a bit more slack from disbelief. Not much, but enough to be visible to someone trained to read body language. "Okay,” he said cautiously. “He said that. Sure.”

“He most certainly did. You don’t have to be crazy to go to a therapist, Tim.”

“I  _know_ that. I’m not stupid. I refer people to therapy pretty often.” It took a moment for him to say anything else, but Lisa was patient, and it was clear Tim had more he wanted to say. After a moment, he took a breath and started over. “So. He thinks I’m not crazy. And most the people I knew who died are, y’know. Alive again.” Tim paused. “That kind of begs the question… Why am I here?"

"I assume you mean why this was a big enough requirement that you were benched from your team?” she filled in for him. Tim nodded stiffly. “Anyone who has a hard time with processing death is welcome to grief counseling, Tim. Actually –  _may_ I call you Tim? Not all of my patients’ preferred names have been quite accurate."

Tim tightened his grip on the chair’s arm. ”…Yeah. Figures.” He though of Kon, leaving the office, and how startled they’d been to see each other. He wondered if she’d been calling him Kon, or Conner. More than that, he wondered which one his best friend actually preferred now. He swallowed thickly. “You can call me Tim.“

"Well, then, Tim,” Lisa said, “You seem overdue for grief counseling, if I may say so. Even if the majority of your loved ones have returned, you know as well as I do that they, and their relationship with you, is not the same as before they died.”

He swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

Lisa gave him a sympathetic smile, and glanced back down at her notes. “…This seems doubly so for you, considering the traumatic way many of your loved ones have died, and how long you lived without them."

Tim stared forward, keeping his eyes focused on the metal frame of her desk.

It wasn’t quite dissociation, but his dark memories showed on his face nonetheless. Lisa, to her credit, didn’t write anything down about it. Not that she wouldn’t after he left, but in the moment, she was more interested in keeping Tim from having a worse reaction.

It took a while, but finally Tim parted his cotton-dry lips. "If it’s all the same to you,” he said, voice wholly monotone, “I’d like to keep the psychoanalysis to the third date. Thanks."

Deflection. But better than a breakdown. Lisa let out a hum of agreement. "I'm sorry, Tim. You seemed the type not to like beating around the bush, that’s all. And I’d rather be clear with you about  _why_ you’re here and what we’re aiming for, than have you confused or uncertain about where we stand."

Tim’s jaw flexed a little. There was Nightwing written all over that explanation, but he didn’t call her out on it. ”…No, you’re right. I just… I’d rather not be here. No offense.“

Lisa looked up at him with a raised brow. "Wouldn’t you know it, but I’m afraid  _most_ of my appointments feel that way."

It was almost a joke, and when Tim looked up at her face, his heart squeezed at how genuine she seemed about it all.

"How about we start over,” Lisa said. When Tim didn’t answer, she set her cards aside and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “I’m Lisa, and I’d really love for you to talk to me, Tim. About anything and everything that comes to mind, whether it’s related to you being here, or not."

Tim let out a slow breath. ”…Okay.”

“Well then. If that’s settled… How about we talk about the small things first, mm?” Lisa asked, voice encouraging.

Whether Tim wanted it to work or not, it seemed to. He nodded.

“Alrighty then. How about… You tell me how your day has gone so far.” With a genuine smile, she leaned forward and asked, “How are you doing today, Tim?"

Tim managed to look up at her again, feeling a bit better at the more blase, basic question. “Fine,” he said. “Today... Today, I’m doing just fine.”

Lisa gave him an encouraging smile. "There we go. How about you give me some more details, and I'll treat you to a cup of coffee?"

"...Deal." He doubted it would be caffeinated, but it would probably be better than nothing. "Let's see. I didn't get to sleep till really late, so I woke up at like... nine, and barely got here on time..."


	2. Chapter 2

The sessions didn’t really feel like they were helping. Granted, Kon had only taken two so far, and he was too early into his third to decide if it was a success or a failure, but damn, he’d been expecting something a little more concrete by now.

Instead of either feeling like they were good for him or straight-up bad for him, it just felt like he was talking to someone paid to listen for an hour.

Basically, it didn’t feel like much of anything.

The last two visits, she’d alternated talking about herself, or talking to him about some of the things he liked. And that last one wasn’t exactly fun, considering he couldn’t _do_ those things anymore.

At least, not until he was cleared to go.

A teeny tiny, itty-bitty part of Kon wondered if it was a bad thing that he didn’t have anything else in his life that he liked aside from hero work.

At least Ma had let him fly out to San Francisco to spend the day with the Titans. He’d missed his friends, and he could only do so much farm work before the repetition started to drive him nuts.

And seriously, outside of farm work, there was nothing going on. People kept saying he needed to 'rest,' needed time to get 'his head right,' but the last thing he wanted to do was be alone with his thoughts. And, as for actual sleep...

That, well. That hadn’t been going so well.

Kryptonians didn’t need to eat or sleep in order to stay alive, but they still enjoyed it. And as someone half-human, Kon actually did need it, at least a little. But the quantities he needed were pretty fuzzy, so he could always get away with fudging the details and pulling all nighters or long stints without a snack. But he'd always known he needed a break eventually. 

It was just that, well. Lately he hadn't wanted to take them.

Not for lack of trying, either. But there were only so many trippy, technicolor, Alice-in-Wonderland-style nightmarescapes he could handle. He hadn't liked revisiting Guardian and Tana and the DNAngel and Bart's scout's deaths... And he didn't really want to revisit his own.

So, yeah. Kryptonian DNA. While it had taken a while for it to catch up with him, Kon was finally starting to feel the effects of his sleepless nights.

He hid a yawn as Lisa talked. Some story about that three legged dog again, he was pretty sure, and found no real reason to comment.

After listening for a bit longer, he ended up draping himself along the couch, lying his head back against a pillow and staring up at the ceiling.

Lisa noticed his movement, obviously, and after wrapping up her story, she asked, “Tired, Kon?”

Kon only gave a discontented hum in reply.

“I’m not really supposed to,” Lisa said mildly, “But if you were to try and sleep on the couch, I wouldn’t stop you. It looks like you could use some rest.”

Instead of accepting the offer with gratitude, Kon turned his head towards her and glared. Well, pout-glared. It wasn’t quite the same as real glaring, as with Kryptonians that tended to involve heat vision. “Yeah, save it. Everyone keeps saying that, and it's kinda starting to piss me off,” Kon said, voice as no-nonsense as he could manage. It came easier than usual, and he wondered if it had something to do with how short-tempered he’d been feeling lately. “I’m Kryptonian, I don’t even really  _need_ sleep.”

Lisa gave him a long look, before scribbling down a quick note. “Half Kryptonian,” she said. “Are you not sleeping when you’re in Kansas with Ms. Kent?”

Kon’s jaw flexed. “I don’t see why that matters.”

“Hm.” Lisa adjusted her glasses, with an expression that made it clear she wasn’t buying his story. “Perhaps we ought to put that to the test. If you perform better when you haven’t been sleeping, as opposed to when you’re well-rested, then maybe this can stop being considered a problem,” she said, sounding quite reasonable. “Would you like to take a few aptitude tests later in the week, if you still haven’t slept by then?”

Despite the rationality of the request, it made Kon uncomfortable. “That’s... Um. That's not necessary,” he said. He bit the inside of his cheek. "Thanks but no thanks."

To his surprise, Lisa didn’t lose her patience with him. “Very well, then. Let me know if you change your mind. It was just an idea.” She smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges, and Kon squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “When you’re ready, we can talk more about that, or about...” She glanced down, probably at a notepad, and added, “How you’ve had a sharp decrease in appetite the last few weeks.”

And that, that made Kon’s mouth actually snap shut, tight-lipped with frustration.

It was _this_ kind of meddling that had made Kon wary of even Ma. He knew she was just trying to help, but she didn’t know what he needed. No one seemed to.

And the longer this went on, the farm felt more and more like a prison. He missed the wind in his hair, and the feeling of being useful. If they weren’t going to solve that for him, then they didn’t understand what he was really struggling with. No one had listened to him when he’d argued against being benched, though, so by now... what was the point of telling this chick?

Kon leaned back and crossed his arms tight against his chest.

The mention of food had him remembering just how useless the situation was, too. Nothing against Martha Kent or Lisa, but... this chick didn’t know how his body worked any more than Ma did.

 _Action_ was something he needed -- and farmwork just wasn’t cutting it.

Plus... And this was part of why Ma was getting worried, but-

He was only half human, so it wasn’t like he really needed to eat as much as a regular person if he wasn’t doing anything particularly active. Hence, not having much appetite. He could probably be fine on less than a thousand calories a day, even now that he was bulky instead of the skinny kid in a leather jacket that had escaped CADMUS.

But no one seemed to get that. Any argument that he wasn’t hungry just had people giving him pitying looks, like they knew better, and they kept trying to say it was just a symptom of his issues.

Kon blew a sigh through his nose and crossed his arms tighter over himself. He hated this, hated that he’d done almost nothing for the last few weeks, hated that he hadn’t eaten much and still managed to put on a bit of weight. Not a ton, obviously, but he used to take a lot of pride in his appearance, and now it was just another checked box on the list of things he currently hated about his life.

He missed flying. He missed his friends. He missed the surge of adrenaline he got when he saved people. He missed feeling useful. He missed actually feeling hungry, and being able to eat or not eat without judgment.

He missed feeling like himself.

But now, with nothing to do, and Ma insisting that he eat because she just didn’t get that his biology wasn’t the exact same as Clark’s...

It was frustrating.

So yeah, sue him. He didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to have to deal with people telling him that they knew better. The only things he wanted to do, he wasn’t being allowed to do.

There was silence for another few moments, until Kon just couldn’t take it. Though they’d spent much of the first visit in silence, he knew her well enough now that silence only made him feel pressured and over-analyzed. Plus, someone as social as he was couldn’t thrive on empty spaces or quiet.

There was already too much silence at home. And if he was supposed to be getting better here, then dammit...

He sighed and sat forward a fraction of an inch.

Kon didn't need this. It wasn't his schtick, and it wasn't helping, and clearly this lady just wanted to get paid and go home. So maybe, just maybe, he could cut a deal with her.

“Okay, listen," he said, a little conspiratorially. "What do we need to talk about to get you off of my back?”

It took a moment, but he looked back at Lisa, and met her gaze. She folded her hands in front of her, resting her elbows on the desk. “Anything, really. But you’re asking about my professional opinion here?”

Kon didn’t answer her.

“Well,” she continued, as if he’d said yes. “I’m here to make sure that you have the tools to start feeling better.”

“Great, except, y’know, I’m not sick.”

Lisa tilted her head to the side, gently supporting one cheek with her folded hands. “Perhaps not physically, though you certainly don’t look your best with those bags under your eyes.” As Kon self-consciously rubbed them, she continued, “But I’m sure you know I’m not really here to fix physical sickness.”

Kon kept his head ducked, still rubbing at his eyes. “I’m not that kind of sick either, lady.”

“No?” Lisa did her best not to sound pitying. “Your friends and family are worried about you. Perhaps they should have been worried earlier, too, as this isn’t the first time you’ve... behaved like this, and certainly not the first time you’ve needed something simple that others weren’t providing, but-”

“Stop talking in riddles,” Kon interrupted. Again, an adult trying to tell him what his story was, what he needed. This was seriously the last thing he needed right now. “I’m not- What do you even mean, ‘something simple’, what do you think I need?”

“Companionship. Someone to talk to, who will listen without judgment. Someone willing to tell you ‘no’ before you make a bad decision. Something to keep you busy that won’t hurt you.”

Something clicked, there, and he realized that maybe she wasn’t quite as off base as the others had been.

Because, well.

Those things sounded _great_. But Kon’s heart shrunk at the mention of them, knowing that he’d never really had them before, and it was too late to have them now. 

That was why school hadn't worked out any time he'd ever gone. Making friends was hard when it wasn't other superheroes. Normal kids just didn't _get_ him the way Tim and Bart and Cassie did. 

So Kon just shook his head. “I’m Superboy. That’s... -what I need, it’s- it’s different, okay?”

“How so?”

“It just is,” Kon snapped. He had half a mind to leave, but he was feeling vulnerable, and had a feeling that Tim would get all concerned if he stormed out into the lobby area. That is, if Tim was even here yet. Still, he didn’t want to take that risk. “I’m not-- I, I don’t need to be here. Just because I’m a clone and had a weird first few years and like, died and stuff-- like, that’s most superheroes these days, what makes me so special?”

Lisa's expression was decidedly no-nonsense. “I’m of the opinion that all heroes would benefit from seeing a professional,” she said. “It just so happens that you’re under eighteen and you have a guardian who loves you enough to want you to come see one, to make sure you’re alright.”

Kon pursed his lips.

“And,” Lisa continued when Kon failed to interrupt. “You also have a team and friends that love you enough to try to help you, even if you don’t want it.”

A guardian who loves you. Friends that love you.

Those phrases rattled around Kon’s head, and he felt himself getting curiously emotional. Any more of this and he might actually tear up, which was _beyond_ stupid. Was this chick paid just to make him feel emotional? If so, he was gonna have some damn strong things to say to Ma and Cassie next time he saw them.

Still, not much he could do about that right then. Trying to ignore his own emotions, he pulled his knees to his chest and pressed his eyes into his knees. “Whatever. Fine.”

Lisa was silent for a bit, as if gauging her options here. “How about,” she said slowly, “We talk about being Ms. Kent’s grandson, and being a friend, and being Superboy--and how those things make you feel.”

Those were probably the last things Kon really wanted to talk about when he was already feeling so low today. But hell, he didn’t want to go back to sitting in silence.

He shifted from arms-hugging-his-knees to letting one leg drop, though still kept his arms crossed above one propped knee. Kon didn’t try to meet her eyes anymore, just staring at the window on the far side of the office.

More than ever before, he wanted to just fly out of here. Intrusive thoughts about using his TTK-field to trash her office and break down the window came into his head, but he pushed them out and tried to focus on the here and now, and not feeling so angry.

But hey, if he wasn’t feeling angry, all that was left was emptiness.

“Okay, fine. So. Superboy," he finally said, voice low and a little flat to mask his deeper emotions. "I was meant to be Superman. Superboy’s the next best thing. Things are great when I actually get to get out and do things in-costume.”

“Can you tell me more about that?”

No, Kon wanted to say. But instead, he nodded and swallowed thickly. “Well. When I'm in costume, I'm... I’m out. And around. Saving kittens from burning buildings and stepping on villain's faces and all that. I get to, you know, do things that regular people can’t.”

“Like?”

“Like, you know. Fly. Um. Help people. Have friends.” He realized what he’d said then quickly backpedaled. “I mean, yeah, obviously normal people have friends too and whatever, but like- it’s, you know, different.”

Lisa leaned forward a little. “How do you think ‘regular people’ have friendships that are different than friendships among teammates?”

Worried that she was going to spin this in a super-depressing way, Kon waved a hand dismissively. “It just like, _is_. You and your teammates- you... you’d die for each other. There’s like, that level of responsibility. You all have the greatest dayjob in the world in common. Plus they’re stuck with you no matter what,” he said, voice dropping a little at that last one.

It was subtle, but Lisa noticed the way his eyes had guiltily lowered to the floor for a moment. But she didn’t draw attention to it, and didn’t try to get him to explain. Instead, she just smiled a bit. “There does seem to be another level among superhero teams, particularly younger teams,” she said. “But flying, helping people -- those are important to you, as well?”

Kon nodded. “Yeah. I... it’s, you know. The, the helping people thing. That’s part of my whole  _purpose_ ,” he said. Once he realized how passionate he sounded, he ducked his head back down and hastily added, “-or whatever. And, y’know. It feels good. And stuff.”

“And stuff,” Lisa said, hiding a smile. “Yes. What about flying?”

“I... um, flying, that’s...” He bit his lip. “Listen. I’m gonna be honest with you. I hate being grounded like this. Even when I lost my powers for a while, I- it’s, you know. I ... I got a flight ring and I used it for a bit so I could still be me.”

“Be... you?”

Kon’s face flushed. He refused to get into the idea about how he wasn’t really him if he didn’t have his powers, if he couldn’t live up to that original purpose. Because seriously, if he couldn’t help people, there was no reason he was even _here_.

He hadn’t replaced Superman, he wasn’t as intrinsically good as Clark, he wasn’t perfect or smart or even all that great of a friend or teammate--

If he didn’t have his powers, he was basically useless.

“Yeah, whatever. It’s not that important,” Kon said. Then before she could question him further, he continued, “I miss flying more than almost anything. And using the rest of my powers, too, but apparently you guys just don’t trust me to do anything anymore.”

Lisa looked at him a bit closer. “You believe this is about trust?”

That got Kon thinking, and he hesitated, if just for a moment. “Well. Maybe?”

As Lisa didn’t interrupt, it gave him another moment to think things over.

Then, finally, “I don’t know, okay? I feel like people are being way too nosy now. I’ve been through rough spots before and no one really...” _cared_. “...It just wasn’t made such an issue out of, you know? And now it’s not even my fault-” Like Guardian’s and Tana’s and Donna's and Bart’s scout’s deaths had been- “And it’s like you guys are just punishing me for it.”

Lisa nodded slowly. “I understand what you’re saying. I didn’t think about how constricting this must be for you, Kon. I’m sorry that things are coming across this way.”

“If you’re really sorry, you’d do something to _fix_ it,” Kon muttered under his breath.

Lisa scribbled something on a piece of paper. “I’m here to give you the tools you need to feel better,” she said after a moment. Then, “Now... What were you saying, Kon?”

Kon shook his head. He was feeling wrung out from talking about all this, especially feeling like it was fruitless and she was just saying whatever he wanted to hear. So he shrugged a shoulder and avoided eye-contact.

“It’s not really that important. Um. Anyways, isn’t the session about up?”

Lisa gave him a long look, but finally glanced at the clock. There were still a few minutes left, technically, but she nodded.

“If you want to leave early, I won’t stop you,” she said lightly. “But before next session, I’d really like you to think about your friendships and family relationships. Maybe write down a few notes about each.”

Kon got up to leave, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he realized he wouldn’t have to talk about that stuff right this minute, and that he could go as soon as he wanted. Still, he felt kind of guilty for leaving without doing precisely what she wanted.

As he was putting his hand on the door-handle, though, Lisa spoke up. “And here’s a note, for Ms. Kent,” she said, scribbling something down on paper and handing a small doctors’ note out to him.

Kon stared at her outstretched hand for a moment. “Um.”

“It’s a note saying that you’re allowed and encouraged to fly for at least an hour every day, wherever you please,” she said. As Kon’s face lit up, she returned his smile. “I’ll see you next week.”

Kon swallowed thickly, then looked between her and the card. “Really?”

“Really,” she said. “This isn’t supposed to be a _punishment_ , Kon. But I do hope you talk to Ms. Kent about why this is important to you.”

For a moment, Kon faltered, as if taking the card would ensure that he signed a deal with this lady. But he quickly realized that the card meant he got his freedom either way, even if he never talked to Ma about why he needed this so badly.

So he took the card, and quickly pocketed it.

“Y, yeah,” Kon said. “Sure. Later, Lisa.”

With that, he walked out, chest feeling like it might explode from how relieved he was.

Maybe things really were starting to get better.

 

* * *

 

Lisa quickly wrote down a few notes so as not to forget them. It was worrying, how little Kon had been sleeping -- but that would hopefully change if he was able to fly for long enough to wear himself out each day.

Perhaps soon she’d be able to ask him _why_ he was electing not to rest, but until then, all she could do was try to help him sleep.

Eating was another issue, but he’d gotten defensive in a different way about that. Instead of guilty, as he had with sleep, it was as though he’d been annoyed with her for mentioning it. She wasn’t sure if it was because he hated that type of prying more than other types (disordered eating, maybe?), or if it was something else entirely.

She’d also be asking him more about the role of Superboy, as well as what his friendships and other relationships meant to him. It was clear that he cared deeply about his friends -- but all interactions caught on media showed that he was rather clumsy with those relationships. And considering his upbringing, she could understand why. It would be very hard to grow up the way he had without having some trouble forming long-lasting, emotionally intimate, and respectful attachments with others.

Still, his best friends were Bart Allen and Tim Drake. Bart, she could understand, but it seemed as though her next appointment, Tim, was so mature and stoic that any meaningful relationship between them would be difficult. And yet, it persisted.

Privately, she wondered if this was a friendship forged because each were clumsy with relationships and lonely in their own ways. Perhaps they were just happy to latch onto anyone who was as in need of companionship as they were.

She wouldn’t mention it, though. Both would take offense.

She let out a thoughtful hum, and wondered if it would be too prying to ask Tim more about his relationship with Kon specifically. After all, Kon had been directly related to the episode that had led to Tim being forcibly signed up for grief counseling...

Just as she was planning her strategy though, she heard voices in the lobby.

“Hey,” Kon said. “I, uh. Was just leaving. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tim said. Then, he hesitated before saying, “You alright?”

“Yeah. Just, y’know. Stupid stuff. I’ll see you later?”

“...Yeah. I’m coming to the Tower right after this, actually. You mind giving me a lift?”

“I, um. I was actually fixing to like, you know, head there early. Go to town on the gym for a bit, since Ma’s been riding my ass about what I’m allowed to do and not do with my powers and all that.” He paused. “I mean, not like- she’s, you know, _Ma_ , I just-”

“Yeah, I get you.” Tim was quiet for a second, then coughed to clear his throat. “Well. I guess I’ll zeta and meet you there that way.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Kon moved to the door. “Um. See ya. And like, good luck in there or whatever, hopefully she’s not too hard on you.”

And that, that was certainly an indication that it had been a harder session for Kon than Lisa realized. She wondered what exactly he meant, though her instincts told her it was the conversation they’d had just before he left. Someday, she’d get him to stop hedging around the past and talk to her plainly.

Certainly something to think about later.

But she needed to focus on Tim right now. Tim, who she’d been making steady process with, and who gave her measured answers and seemed to know exactly what she wanted to hear, without ever revealing more than he meant to.

Maybe this time she’d get him to be more honest.

Still, what he chose to tell her about was almost as telling as what he refused to talk about.

She wanted to get him to talk about his history as Robin, and his role as a teammate and friend and brother. But, something told her she wouldn’t get that far today. More importantly, she was getting some worrisome notes about Tim’s overall health. 

The biggest success she could have today was getting him set up with helpful coping mechanisms and self-care habits that he could actually stick to. 

Otherwise, she feared that their sessions might end and he would end up in a real hospital instead. 

After all -- Tim wasn’t Kon. Not sleeping or eating normally hurt one much more than the other. 

 

* * *

 

Tim had sat perfectly still for five minutes. It wasn’t spent entirely in silence, of course -- Tim was too smart for that. But each sentence exchanged was measured, and patient, and gave away just enough information to keep Lisa from prying, while still not giving anything relevant.

Or so he hoped.

A small part of him, anyways. Tim was still conflicted, still on the fence about how much he was going to let her in on.

Because, yes, he _wanted_ to get better. And that invariably involved letting people in. He knew that much, and he’d known it even back when he was still in the field. He’d let his friends help him with Ra's, and that was a huge step forward from the dark place he’d been in, mentally.

But a huge part of him was still in that dark place.

Obviously.

Hence having to come here.

Minds were tricky, though, and grief was even worse. Because even though Tim knew that, _objectively_ , he needed to actually start filling her in on the details of his life and all the important things, he just... couldn’t bring himself to.

He did know that Lisa was catching on, though, and he was counting on that.

Because distance was a coping mechanism for bats. But she _knew_ it was a coping mechanism for bats, so sooner or later, she’d learn to start asking the right questions.

Tim would continue as it was until she figured out what to ask.

“Things have been fine. I reread some of my old favorite books yesterday,” Tim said. He paused, almost mechanically looking up at her, expecting the stream of conversation to follow the same automatic questions and responses it had thus far. 

So he was surprised when he heard her ask,

“How long did it take you to reread them?”

Even though he heard her ask it, his brain short-circuited a moment and gave a the shortcut of, “Sherlock Holmes.”

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and finally Tim really realized his misspeak. His cheeks flushed.

Lisa smiled at him. “How long did it take you to read through one of them?” she asked, patiently. As Tim blushed, she was quick to give a slightly dismissive wave of the hand. "Don't worry about it, Tim, though I do hope you're not too nervous being here today. Now, how long?”

“Um. Four hours, I think. It was a pretty big volume.” He felt himself tense again, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. He knew this wasn’t even that much information, but it still felt like he was giving too much away. Like he was letting her in on too big of a secret. “...It was, um. It had the one where the girl outsmarted him in this collection. Scandal in Bohemia.”

“Is that your favorite?”

Tim bit the inside of his cheek. “I, uh. Yeah. It didn’t used to be, but--now, yeah.”

Lisa leaned forward, suspecting that he was trying to tell her something, in his own cryptic way. His body language was tenser now, and his voice seemed less measured and automatic. “What was your childhood favorite?”

“The, um. The Red-Headed League.”

“I’m afraid I’m not all that familiar with the series, really.” Lisa scribbled down the titles, though, just to look into what it was that made these so special to him. “But I appreciate you telling me about your favorite books. I can always use some new reading material, and mysteries are a lot of fun.”

Tim nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“You’ve liked mysteries since you were a child then, yes?”

He nodded again, then stopped, tensing up a little. Tim rested his hand on the armrest finally, but it was a measured gesture. “I, uh. Started reading Sherlock Holmes when I was pretty young.”

“You liked to read, then?”

Tim shrugged a little. “Not as much as photography, but. Gotham was rainy. So. Um.”

Lisa looked up at him to smile encouragingly. “How old were you, when you started photography?”

“I learned how to take a picture when I was like. Four. But I didn’t really start doing it much till I was, um, five? Six?”

It was a clue. He hoped she noticed it. Then again, it wasn't half as obvious as she probably needed it to be, which kind of sucked. 

Sometimes Tim wished that someone could just reach in his head and fix him, because being open and honest was a thousand times harder. 

But it was true that photography was important to him as a kid. That's how his whole destiny got decided -- all because he followed Batman and Robin and took pictures of them and pieced together their identities. 

It was probably just as important to his overall fate as his love of detective stories. 

“You mentioned Gotham being rainy?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. Um. I went out sometimes.” He paused. “To take pictures.”

“Of...?”

"Things.” Tim shrugged a shoulder. “I took pictures around the house at first, but there wasn’t a whole lot there to photograph.”

Lisa nodded. And while she felt that there was something else there to talk about, she was a little distracted by his earlier discussion, about those books. “So... Why reread Holmes?”

Tim looked at her, and looked the tiniest bit relieved. “Well. It’s... I’ve always liked detective things. Um. Strategy.”

“Yes,” Lisa said, smiling a little at him. “That’s why you were good at being Robin even from the start, wasn’t it?”

“Something like that.” His voice dropped a notch, and Lisa seemed to notice it. 

Maybe she was noticing that he was giving her clues. Maybe she was noticing that he was telling her these things not for small-talk, but because he wanted her to play along and help him piece together what had gone wrong in his head. 

“So. Why reread it now?” she prompted, and Tim mentally crossed his fingers for luck. He wasn't yet sure if it was 'luck' for her not to pry the right way, or 'luck' for her to ask the right questions and come to the right conclusions. “Is there a reason, or were you looking to just relieve a bit of your childhood?” 

And there was that tiny bit of inner disappointment. She was asking about it as if it was still just a hobby. 

Tim knew, somewhere deep down, that he'd done this himself. Forcing himself to talk about books instead of his deeper issues, just to avoid the dangerous things, the big things. 

He was here to get better, and he was sabotaging himself. 

Tim fidgeted a little, feeling guilty as much as he felt paranoid of giving her any more relevant information. “Can you, um. Give me a second?”

It was the first time he’d ever asked for more time for an answer. Tim still wasn’t sure if he meant to give her a more straightforward answer or not, but this was his opportunity. And this was his chance to get better. That was the whole reason he was here. So as Tim deliberated it, Lisa patiently waited, alternating watching him and politely looking away so as not to make him uncomfortable.

Tim closed his eyes, took a breath, then decided to himself that he’d try. 

Just a little, of course. 

Not too much at once. 

But he'd try.

“The story, um. I... like the way it makes me feel. Sort of. Um,” he finally said. “Mysteries that I, uh, already know the answers to. I don’t have to worry about it so much. Things are okay in the end. Except, not for my favorite one. The one I mentioned earlier.” 

Lisa leaned forward, resting her head on top of her level, steepled hands. “Can you explain that a little more?” 

“The villain wins, in that one. She, uh, gets away with it. She outsmarts Sherlock.” 

That seemed to give her pause, if just for a moment. Tim hoped he hadn’t said too much at once, or scared her off, or disappointed her by not saying enough about real, concrete things. But... It didn’t seem to surprise her as much as he’d worried it would.

After all, he'd basically just said that his favorite story was something where justice wasn't served. Not exactly a good sign for someone in the vigilante justice business.

But hey, if she was surprised, maybe that was a good thing. Plus, this thread could keep her from asking too invasive of questions still. 'Trying' or not, he wasn't ready to get into topics about his ... moral gray areas he'd struggled with when he was first starting out as Red Robin. 

Tim didn’t think he was physically capable of telling her that he had often deliberated on whether or not to kill. On whether or not it was right to work for Ra's.

But he also didn't think he could tell her that he was stressed out to the max and was running on fumes. (As if it wasn't already obvious, but hey, details.)

He definitely didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was so anxious he was having heart palpitations and couldn’t sleep because he had to fix everything. Probably wasn't supposed to mention the nightmares, either, or the idea that it was his responsibility to fix everything, and that if he hesitated for one second then another friend would die, and that if he wasn't managing his time to the fullest, someone else would get hurt and it'd be entirely his fault -- 

Ah. 

Too close to home for that last one. That was why he was here, wasn't it? Because he'd panicked in the field? 

Tim took a shuddering breath at the memory. 

He couldn’t lose anyone else. 

It took a moment for him to realize Lisa was talking again. 

“-She outsmarts him, but things still work out afterwards, yes?” 

Tim snapped back into the present. He nodded, albeit reluctantly “I -- I know I should still want Sherlock to win, but. It’s... Things are still okay. No one dies. The villain’s not going to hurt anyone, and it’s just a little bit of justice and money that’s lost.” 

Lisa nodded, and wrote down a few notes. “Take a deep breath, Tim,” she said, and Tim noticed that he was breathing rather shallowly. After he was breathing more steadily, she smiled encouragingly at him. “Now, I have a few guesses about why this story sticks out to you and why you wanted to bring it up to me. But right now, it’s not about what I get from this story. It’s about what you understand about yourself, and what you can admit aloud. Can you try that for me?” 

Tim looked at her for a moment, uncertain as ever. “What?” 

“I want you to tell me more about  _why_ this story makes you feel better than the others.” 

And that, that he could do. Maybe. This was his own fault, for deciding to talk only about a book that he was enjoying, after all. Lisa had to get her answers somehow, and if this was the roundabout way he was making her do it, well. There wasn’t much he could do about that now.

He closed his eyes, focusing on keeping his breaths steady. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “It makes me feel safe. Like, the worst isn’t... Like the thing I think will happen, might not, even if I fail?” 

Lisa nodded. “Okay,” she said. “That’s a good thing. Can you talk about it a little more? Just explore your feelings, say whatever feels right.” 

The idea of _exploring feelings_ was the last thing he really wanted to do. Tim leaned back in his seat, loosely crossing his arms. 

It’d probably help to give some background knowledge, so he decided to start there. “Like I said, it’s all about... this girl, who outsmarts Sherlock,” he said. “And I feel like- When I was a kid, I sort of liked it because it made me feel like I, uh. Like it was okay, sort of, to try and play detective on Batman.” Lisa wrote something down, there, but he ignored it in favor of continuing to talk. “And then as I got older, it made me feel like anyone could solve mysteries, and be admired for it. And recently, it was this... this big thing, with Ra’s al Ghul, and I... He was playing me, but I ended up winning because I outsmarted him.” 

Lisa let out a hum to show she was listening when Tim paused for too long. 

“And, um. I feel like I’m super off track, sorry. But -- being able to outsmart people, that’s... It’s  _really_ important to me. Even if I have to lie or do things that aren’t... good things to do -- as long as I come out on top and the right thing happens, I- I feel like, like things will be okay. Like worst case scenarios won’t happen, and even if they do, the worst won’t be as bad as I think it will be.” 

But at that, Tim stopped short. He hung his head, because the worst things  _had_ happened. And he’d been powerless to stop all of it. What was the point of liking things that minimized the impact of losing, when losing had cost him so much already? 

“Take a moment to breathe,” Lisa said. “Now. You’ve been through a lot of bad things. But, they ended up getting fixed, and life continued on for you afterwards even if they didn’t.” Tim felt something seize up in his chest, and he realized he was angry a beat too late. But by then, Lisa was already talking again. “Don’t get me wrong, Tim -- sometimes, these things were terrible, and that’s why you’re here today, because you’ve faced some horrible losses.” 

Tim didn’t answer her. 

“But,” she continued, “You worked hard, and you did your best to minimize most losses you faced, to save as many people as you can, and bring back others that had been lost. And now that you’re in a better place, you’ve done better with reaching out to friends and family. That is a  _good_ thing, Tim.” 

“In the book, the only bad thing was that she got away with some crimes and tricked Holmes,” Tim said. “...Things aren’t like that here. I mean. Obviously. Just...” 

“No, they aren’t.” Lisa managed a tight-lipped smile. “But we can’t control circumstances. We can only control how we deal with them.” 

“Right.” He let out a shaky breath. “So I’m here because I’m doing a bad job of dealing with things.” 

“You’re here, in this office, because you’re willing to take a step forward. Yes, you don’t necessarily want to be here, but you’re choosing to be here because a part of you wants to get better. You could leave this room any time you want to, but you aren't.” 

Tim looked back up at her, a little indignant. “I'm here because I'm being forced into it."

“You went all around the globe, alone, looking for Bruce for months. You are fully capable of leaving on your own again, Tim. You’re choosing to endure this rather than go back to that because you want to stay close to family and friends, and, I hope, because you want to get better.” 

That, more than anything else, made him pause. “Okay. Say you’re right,” he said. “Why am I not getting better already, then?” 

“Because this takes time, and skill-sets that help you cope. Skill-sets that you don’t have yet.” 

Tim pursed his lips. 

“However, reading that book because it makes you feel a bit better, a bit safer -- that’s a good start,” she said. “I’d even go as far as to call it a coping mechanism of sorts. But I’d like to hear if you have any others.” 

“Other... coping mechanisms?” 

“Things you do to make you feel good, or safe, when you’re otherwise feeling low. In order to give you the tools you need, I need to know what you’re already doing. So, any other stories, or activities, or...?” 

And this was definitely getting into territory that Tim didn’t like. He didn’t want to discuss his personal habits with a stranger, didn’t want someone else knowing his life. 

But he was here for a reason. So damn it all, he had to do this. 

So Tim thought it over, frowning slightly. “I... I don’t know.” After a moment, he opened his mouth again, then, “Being at the Titans Tower with, um, my team in the background. That helps. Same with the Manor. Not the cave, just -- upstairs. But people aren’t there a lot and it’s ...bad, if no one’s there, so. Only if there’s people there, does it help.” 

“That’s perfectly understandable, Tim,” Lisa said. “It’s good that you can recognize that, and understand what conditions are good for you and which ones might make a bad mental state worse.” 

“Yeah. Right. And, listening to, um.” Tim sounded embarrassed, and still hadn’t opened his eyes. “...The friends and family that died. Their updated voice mailboxes, instead of... the ones that they were stuck with, when they died. And just also talking to them in real time.” 

“I think that’s an excellent coping mechanism. Especially since it doesn’t necessarily require them to be right in front of you.” Lisa wrote something down, then, “When do you think it would help you most, to do these sorts of things?” 

“I, um. When I’m feeling...” 

There was a long moment of silence, with Tim pretty clearly struggling to pin his emotions under any one label.

“Take your time.” 

Tim continued to hesitate, letting out several slow, measured breaths before he felt comfortable. “Overwhelmed, I guess.” 

“That’s a good word,” Lisa said. “Not very specific, though. Can you tell me what makes you feel overwhelmed?” 

He swallowed down a thick feeling in his throat. “I’d rather not.”

Though Lisa’s disappointment was obvious to someone as well-versed in facial cues as Tim, she was kind about it. “That’s alright, Tim. We won’t go faster than you’re ready. I do need to talk to you about something else, though. Can you look at me?” 

Tim nodded, and did as instructed. “What else is there to talk about?” 

“I know you value your privacy, but your family does send me up-to-date health measurements.” At Tim’s silence, she continued, “You’ve lost an inch around your waist, and half an inch around your upper arms, Tim -- in just over a week. Your family is concerned.” 

A part of him had known this was coming, but the rest felt blindsided. “They don’t need to be,” he said, a little defensively. “I’m still within a healthy range.” 

“Barely,” Lisa said. “And only because you’re mostly muscle. But you’re losing muscle mass at almost the same rate as what little body fat you have. This could be potentially dangerous to your vigilante work. It’s important that you aren’t a danger to yourself or others, Tim. Do you understand that?” 

Tim let out a frustrated sigh through his nose. “In theory.” 

“And in practice?” 

“It’s just-” Tim looked more sharply away. “-I’m not hungry, and all I want to do is ... fix things. I don’t like taking breaks to eat, and I don’t... If I don’t make  _progress_ , I...” 

A lot of self-help psychology guides might have filled that phrase in with ‘I don’t deserve to eat’, but truth be told, Tim didn’t even know what he would have ended the sentence with. All he knew was that he didn’t have an appetite and that there were worse things in the world than getting a little leaner. 

Still. He knew _rationally_ that his family was worried for a reason. 

If this was Dick they were talking about... Or Stephanie, or Cass, or Bruce, or Jason... Or the Brat... He would understand. Even be sympathetic. 

It was just himself he didn’t have much patience or compassion for. “I guess it’s just hard. I get annoyed if anyone reminds me, but without a reminder I forget.” 

“It’s good that you can acknowledge that,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “How about sleeping? I can tell that it’s been rough the last few days. But you look a little better than last time. What’s different?” 

“Alfred  _drugged_ me two days ago,” Tim said. There wasn’t a trace of amusement in his voice. “Is it bad that I kind of hate that it worked? I mean -- it was the best sleep I’ve had in weeks.” He shook his head, as if trying to shake off the memory. “But I really don’t like drugged sleeps. I’m not gonna fall for that one again.” 

Lisa nodded. “I understand. I wouldn’t like that much, either, if it were me. Is there an alternative medicine you think might work?” 

Tim shifted in his seat, looking profoundly uncomfortable with the question. “I don’t know.” 

And with that, Lisa was pulling out a prescription and writing down a few things -- presumably, different options for him. “We can get you set up on some herbal remedies and teas, as well as some hormones to get your sleep cycle back in order.” 

Tim hesitated, but couldn’t find anything immediately wrong with the suggestion. “That’s... not as bad as being drugged, I guess,” he said. Then, he immediately backpedaled, remembering the way sleeping medication always made him feel -- sluggish and drowsy and useless. He hesitated. “Will any of these keep me from helping out in an emergency?” 

“You’re on indefinite leave from vigilante work,” Lisa said. At Tim’s frustrated expression, she continued, “Let me explain. You’re on leave, or benched, because you might pose a threat to yourself if you went out in the field. Whether it would be intentional or not, you could get hurt, and that’s what we’re trying to avoid, Tim. You have a lot of people who love and depend on you, and your current mental health struggles might make you a liability to them.” 

Tim looked down. That was what he’d been afraid of for years -- that he was just a liability. 

Lisa seemed to sense that. “You do good work for the world, Tim. But it’s important that you’re around to do more of it later, especially when it comes to helping your family and friends.” 

Tim’s expression turned guilty. “But I’m already not on the streets anymore. I’m already not helping them.” 

“Temporarily,” she insisted. “Just for a bit longer, until we’re certain that you aren’t at risk of self-harm or other suicidal idelations.” 

“So taking me at my word isn’t good enough, huh.” Tim let out a sigh. “Okay, fine.” 

“I appreciate you complying, Tim.” After a moment, Lisa tapped her pen against her notepad. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about in the time we have left?”

Tim shrugged.

“Well, then. I was hoping we could chat a bit about how you feel about being Robin, and Red Robin, and the work you’ve done as both.” 

At that, Tim looked up at her. “What, uh, what sort of chat?” 

“Whatever comes to mind.” She smiled, trying to relax him. “But I can start with a question or two, just to get the ball rolling.” When Tim didn’t immediately dissent, she evidently took it as a sign to continue. Tim wondered if he should’ve argued, but... well. It felt a little useless now. “Why did you want to become Robin?” 

It took Tim a moment to think about the answer. Because truth be told, there were a lot of reasons he’d associated with his choice over the years. But... 

“Batman needed a Robin,” he said. “Dick turned me down when I asked him to go back to it. Sure, he ended up working more with Bruce instead of ignoring him, but -- their partnership wasn’t what it was before. So I, uh...” 

“You stepped into the shoes,” Lisa said. Then, she paused. “But you didn’t answer the question. Why did you want to become Robin? Not just to help others -- what was it that made you believe you were the best candidate? And that it wasn’t too much of a risk to yourself to go out and help them?” 

Tim paused. “I already knew their secret identities, so -- I, they wouldn’t be risking as much because they wouldn’t have to tell anyone who didn’t already know.” When he realized that still didn’t answer her, he paused, crossing his arms a little more tightly around himself. “I didn’t have other obligations. And my parents wouldn’t really know or care, since they weren’t...  _around_ much.” 

That was the most about the situation that he’d ever admitted aloud, and to a stranger nontheless. It made his stomach feel twisted up inside. 

“Go on, Tim. I know you have more to say. So let it out, please. It’ll do you a lot of good.” 

Tim took a breath. “I wanted to be Robin because I could... I could help Batman help people. I could be a part of something.” 

“Tell me more about that, please. You wanted to be a part of what, exactly?” 

“Something. Anything.” Tim seemed to realize what he’d said, and he looked down. “I- It let me... I was already good at a lot of detective things. And I always liked stories about heroes. So I got to, um. Become something bigger than just me.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting any of that,” Lisa reassured him. “You might think that makes you less of a hero, if you did it because you felt alone, or purposeless, but you still used your abilities and training to do good in the world.” 

Tim stared at her, and it took him a moment to realize she was right. Not about the second part -- though he certainly hoped it was true -- but about the former part. He _did_ feel like it made him less of a hero, if he joined for those reasons. 

He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of that realization making him feel a little overwhelmed. 

“I don’t know what else to say. I think, um. I’ve got a lot to think about, and the session’s almost over anyways, so...” 

“I understand.” Her eyes were kind, and she smiled softly at him. “Please, think about what we’ve discussed, though. Next week, I want you in here with some fresh ideas. Try your best to be honest, or at least to bring in topics you’ll feel comfortable being honest about.” 

Tim rose to his feet slowly, still feeling a little off-kilter. “Yeah,” he said, nodding his head slowly. “Sure thing. Same time next week?” 

“I’ll see you Monday.” As Tim started for the door, Lisa scribbled something down on a card. “Take this, please?”

Tim took it and examined it closely, brows furrowing. “What, uh, exactly...?”

“Deliver this to Alfred. It will be a pleasant surprise for you as long as you avoid reading it ahead of time.” 

Her expression was cheerful, almost mischievous, and Tim at least half-trusted her for her word. “Okay,” he said cautiously. “I’ll deliver it to him. I gotta go, though. Titans Tower awaits, you know?” 

“I know, Tim. Have a nice weekend -- and try to have fun with you friends. They’ve missed you.” 

Blushing from embarrassment at how much this woman knew about his life, Tim ducked his head and headed out the door. 

He could only hope that next session would be less  _embarrassing_.


End file.
